HT- Chasing Kites

by Sarah Schwabe - Suncoast Christian College

The man refused to let anyone console him after that day. After all, nothing anyone could say would change the fact that he was responsible for another man’s death. There were many other captains back in 1920 who would not blink an eye when pearls were hoisted out of the sea attached to lifeless bodies. In fact, they took great pleasure in untwining the pearls from rigid fingers and selling them the moment the boat hit the dock.

However, it was clear that this man had not been cut out to be a captain, because his decision to pull the pearl diver up too quickly left him with unwavering amounts of guilt.

The diver had suffered from the bends from the man’s decision and as a result, 50 years later the man sits on a splintered gum stool, his shoulders crumpled inwards in regret.

He adjusts his black-rimmed glasses on his hardened cheekbones which had not felt the tightness of a smile, nor been raised to see the sun for something of 50 laps. Under the glasses lay wild, distant blue eyes, shame circling his iris like a fierce current as he watched the Brahminy Kite plunge into the river. The clouds above the river began to mutter menacing words to each other, causing the man to wince.

The old man stands up and grips his veranda railing so tight that his knuckles turn white.

The distant percussion coming from the sky sets off his memory. For the 20th time that day, his mind floods with the image of the young Japanese man, unnecessarily dead in his arms. His fingers twitch uncontrollably as his conscience tortures him into a spiral of guilt, causing self-blame to crash over him like relentless waves in an ocean. 

The bird the old man watches lands on the railing, ruffling out its feathers to emphasise its large, white chest. Its body is long and muscular, the feathers on its wings are a rich chestnut brown to complement its stone-coloured talons. It is a vicious, greedy predator.

After preying on fish and rodents, it swoops its full stomach into the old man’s boat and steals half his catch. For this, the man does not resent the raptor, but rather envies its free and absent mind. It has no conscience. No remorse for stealing from a frail old man. The man wishes to be as heartless as the bird.

The wings beat triumphantly, as the large raptor lifts from the railing.

The bird glides effortlessly towards the river in the swirling wind. Captivated by its freedom, the old man’s head leans down the stairs of the veranda to keep the bird in view. Without even realising, the man picks up his tattered leather hat, captain etched hauntingly in the side, and hobbles down the stairs. His feet follow the bird until he is striding rhythmically across the road toward the river. The storm clouds bellow like a raging bull, queuing the man’s fingernails to embed themselves viscously into the leather rim of his hat.

In his ill state of mind, the man decides that his only hope for a peaceful life is to live like the bird. A life where he doesn’t see a lifeless body amongst scattered pearls every time he closes his eyes. With this decision in mind, he clambers into the tinny on the river and like a sailor caught in a siren’s call, follows the Brahminy Kite south toward the tumultuous black clouds. The sky snarls, baring its electrical white teeth into the water and the storm descends on the man.